I have a cool tittle but it's too long see below
by Ally-chan1447
Summary: Much Ado about Youth Potions, Time Traveling, Gender-switching Pirates, and Perverts.
1. Prologe: In Which the Magic is Stolen

The house had been left abandoned for sometime now; its owner had left for America almost a year ago and hadn't returned as usual. The dust had settled at an inch on every surface, the air held a stagnant feel, and the box of cereal had long since gone stale. The garden was full of weeds and forlorn cobwebs had formed in every corner. Life had left the house.

All life was gone, that is, except for the dark figure that was slinking through the yard at an ungodly hour in the night. It crossed the overgrown lawn to a lone smiling garden gnome, lifted the clay lawn ornament, and smiled. There laid a dull golden key that the owner had left for an idiot who often lost his key. The intruder removed the object from it s spot and replaced the grinning gnome and turned toward the house.

After crossing the ragged lawn again, the intruder went up the moss covered steps to the front door. He proceeded with caution in hopes that the owner hadn't put in motion sensor that would trigger the lights; he didn't need any type of complications.

When the lights didn't turn on he let out a sigh of relief and put the key in the door and paused, he couldn't help but wonder if the key was outdated, the homes owner had been know to change his locks often. And I don t want to break a window. He held his breath and turned the key.

-Click- the door unlocked.

The intruder let out his breath again and remotely thought that this breaking in business was really rather nerve racking. _I'm going to have white hair after this._He opened the door and slipped inside the front hall. The temperature was almost the same as outside except there was a slight draft and it wasn't as wet. The intruder navigated through the house until he reached the kitchen which was, in his opinion, inconveniently located at the back of the house.

It was a room of smallish size and was what he assumed to be an average English kitchen that had appliances that most likely were over fifty years old. A complete waste of space in this house his mind muttered.

His gaze swept around the room until his eyes alighted upon a door that was wedged into a corner of the room, if one wasn't searching for it would have easily overlooked. However it was exactly what the man was there for and he quickly made his way across the linoleum floor and grasped the door knob.

It jiggled but didn't open. He paused and started to jiggle the knob with more vigor. Still nothing. In a sudden sense of frustration he banged his fist against the door. He sighed when still nothing happened; he took a step back and observed the door with a feeling of exasperation. The intruder turned his back against the door and glanced around the room to look for something to open the door. _I guess I'll have to..._His thought was cut off mid-sentence when a rather loud creek-like sound echoed through the quite house. It nearly gave him a heart attack. The intruder turned to look at the door to find that it was now hanging ajar. A smirk crept onto his face and he moved toward the door again and descended down the stairs that were lying behind it.

The stairs eventually lead to a dark, stone walled room that had a draft that was worse than the chilly house above that had a constant drip echo off it s walls. It looked remarkably like those stone rooms one would find in a medieval castle and expect a wizard or an alchemist of some sorts to use. There was a wooden table and several book shelves that were filled with bottles, jars, lose papers, and thick books of all sorts miscellaneously placed. There was one wooden bench and even that was buried underneath the stacks of books on the floor.

The intruder was finding it rather incredulous that the complete, almost obsessively so, neat-freak Arthur had a room that looked like a bomb went off in it. He was also immediately discouraged at finding his goal in this room. But low and behold on the center of the table there was a clearing in the chaos, and there laid a singular book.

It was leather bound in a dyed purple color. There was no writing in any language on the cover but the feel one got from it was unmistakable. It was an old book. A really-really old book. And it had magic. It had untold promises beneath it's cover, promises of power. He approached the book and a dark smile grew on his face with each step he took to get closer, until he was standing right before the book and grinning like a madman.

He placed a hand on the cover and almost instantly felt power coursing through his body.

"Je l'ai trouvé." And Francis chuckled darkly.  
________________________________________________________________________

Well the title says it all; hopefully this will be an interesting story.

This is the sequel to my first story but I want to create a more adventurous story. Hope you're looking forward to it!

French to English:

Je l'ai trouvé: I have found it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Sadly…


	2. In Which Francis Returns with a Trick

Arthur was trying very hard not to let his annoyance be known to the man sitting next to him. Though, he highly doubted the American would notice his companion's displeasure, even if he started yelling and cussing in his ear. Nope, the American was far too obsessed with what was playing on the T.V. to even notice if the house was on fire, let alone care.

And that was because that time of the year. Yes it was time for that all-American sport championship. And it wasn't baseball, no, that would be too merciful for Arthur, he could actually hold a somewhat minute interest in that game. No it was football that was on the T.V. American Football. The Super Bowl to be exact. And good god it was boring.

Arthur couldn't quite understand how the game was played but to him there seemed to be a lot of standing around while officials bickered. Albeit there was an occasional instance when Arthur felt some type of excitement, but those were fleeting moments that only happened when Alfred was jumping up and down and screaming 'GO!GO!GOOO!' Which in itself would have been enough entertainment, but this had been going on for almost every weekend.

After some very careful consideration, Arthur decided that maybe now would be the perfect time to make some tea find a quiet... Well, almost quiet part of the house and continue his reading. So Arthur left the yelling American and went to the kitchen. He had just put the kettle on and was about to fish some mint tea out of the cupboard when the doorbell rang.

Arthur raised his voice so he could be heard over the loud T.V. "Al, could you get that?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!!!! RUN!!!"

That was pointless. The doorbell rang again and Arthur gave up his current task. I m coming! He tried to raise his voice so that the visitor could hear him. It was again a pointless thing to do because who ever was at the door rang it twice more before Arthur reached it. When he grasped the handle, he yanked the door open.

"What?!" Annoyance showing through his tone.

"Mon ami! How lovely it is to see you!!" Francis exclaimed.

Arthur stared for a second then he slammed the door shut; only it did not completely close. He looked down to see that a shiny black shoe was obstructing the door.

"Can you please open the door?" Francis asked his voice sprinkled with pain. "I can't feel my foot."

Arthur thought about it for a moment; did he really want to deal with the frog? At the same time as dealing with a football crazed American? _Hm, I could use something to talk to though...  
_  
Another chorus of screams hastened his decision and he opened the door for the French man. He was smiling despite the throbbing pain in his right foot and carrying a wine bottle in his left.

"I've come to collect!" He said rather cheerfully.

"Huh?" Was all Arthur said in return.

Francis blinked, then closed his eyes and smiled some more, shaking his head back and forth, almost in a condescending way. As if Arthur had forgotten something very obvious.

"Mon Angelterre," he said in an exasperated voice, "don't tell me you've forgotten our deal?"

Arthur continued to stare at him without saying anything, and after a moment of silence Francis sighed.

"Ahh, you have forgotten! Then let me remind you mon amore, a couple of months ago I gave you information on what I knew on Alfred's whereabouts, and you promised to do something for me in return. Back then you were so pitif-"

Arthur slammed a hand down on Francis mouth before he could continue his rant." I remember. he replied through grinding teeth. What are you doing HERE?"

Francis started to mumble through Arthur's hand, which was retracted almost immediately when he felt Francis wet tongue touch his hand.

"That's Disgusting!" he shouted at the French man.

"Mon petit ami, vous étés tres délicieux." was all Francis said in return.

Arthur reached over and grabbed the insufferable French man by the collar of his shirt, "WHY ARE YOU HERE?!" he shouted at the man.

"Relax, I just want you and your lover-boy to try my new wine, it's the least you could do."

Arthur was dumbfounded, _he couldn't say this at the beginning?!_

"So, will you let me in?" the French man asked with a smirk on his lips. Arthur let go of his hold and turned his back against the man, already tired from the exchange.

"Yeah, sure." he said absently as he turned away from the door. He wandered back into the living room, tea completely forgotten.

When Francis walked into the living room, Arthur was seated next Alfred on the couch so he decided that it'd be best to sit himself in the chair closest to the irritable Brit.

"So what is it?" Arthur asked with minute interest, "some sort of red wine?"

"I haven't decided what to name it just yet, I, myself, am not completely sure on how it tastes. I still haven't decided whether or not to even release it."

Arthur looked down at the unmarked bottle, _So I'm his guinea pig, huh._ A rather loud shout rang in his ear and he looked over to the energetic American, then a slow smile spread across his face as his mind came up with a rather devious plan. _Well, he wouldn't mind being the guinea pig.  
_  
"Hey Alfred," he said at first but nothing happened so he placed a hand on his shoulder and said the same words a little louder.

"Hey, Alfred."

"What?" he finally responded.

"Would you like to try some new wine?" Arthur couldn't help the small smirk that played on his lips. He knew Alfred would take some interest considering that he liked to rival the French man in that category.

"Some what?" he asked still distracted.

"New wine." Arthur tried to say it as loud and as slowly as his common courtesy allowed him to.

"Oh, no thanks, maybe later." was all he replied. Which, frankly stunned Arthur for a moment.

"You sure? It's new FRENCH wine." he tried to taunt the man.

"Yep." _well there went that plan._

"Why? I thou-" Alfred sighed and looked away from the T.V. at Arthur.

"You're supposed to have beer during the Supper Bowl! Not wine, you wouldn't drink wine during your soccer matches would you?" _He has a point there..._ "And speaking of beer I m all out could you go get me some? Thanks." and with that Alfred was sucked back to his game.

Arthur was about to yell at Alfred and tell him to get his own damn beer when he realized that he did the same thing during the last soccer match. He sighed and stood, turning his head to Francis, who had watched the whole scene before him quietly, he said, "I'll go get us two glasses and (sneaks a quick glance at Alfred) a beer."

When Arthur had retreated from the room Francis looked over at Alfred. _How on earth am I going to do this now... The only good thing is that L'Amérique is so absorbed with his sport.  
_  
Arthur returned shortly after with two wine glasses and two beers for Alfred and set them down on the table. The energetic blond immediately reached over and grabbed one of the bottles and, with his monstrous strength, swiftly twisted the top off.

"Mon ami, will you please hand me the cork screw? "

The Brit complied without saying anything. Francis took the tool, opened the bottle, and poured the deep crimson liquid into the respective glasses. Arthur picked up the one nearest to him with a sense of dread and took a whiff of the dark drink.

"It doesn't smell any different from your average cabernet." Arthur commented dryly. He was just about to sip the wine when a loud screech came tearing throughout the house.

"Oh God bless it, I forgot about the kettle!" and with that Arthur launched himself out of his place and charged out of the living room. Francis smiled at the opportunity fate gave him. And as quickly as he could he grabbed the unopened bottle of beer and popped the top off.

He then took out a small bottle from his coat pocket. It was a deep purple and seemed to have an inner glow with certain strength in it. It was captivating. But Francis didn't have time to be captivated. He quickly opened the small bottle and almost immediately the room smelled of fresh grass. He gave a hasty glance at Alfred but he was still involved with the T.V. He slowly tilted the small bottle over the open beer container. _One drop._

After Francis was finished with the beer bottle he moved onto the wine glass that belonged to Arthur. _One, two drops... And we're done._ He replaced the stopper on the small bottle and returned it to his pocket then moved the open beer in front of the ignorant American who was at the moment shouting rather colorful complaints at the T.V.

"I'm sorry Francis, I forgot that I left the stove on." Arthur said as he returned to the living room.

"C est ne pas une problem." Francis replied sweetly, _ and that's how he burns water…_

Arthur sat back down on the couch and picked up his wine glass and sipped the alcohol. He paused, then slowly looked at Francis.

"Wow. It's...good.. It's really good."

"Of course it's good!" Francis exclaimed making broad sweeping motions with his arm, "what else would you expect?"

"For it to be nasty," Arthur snapped back, "you might think me crazy but it tastes kind of... Young," he said looking at the glass.

A sweat drop fell down Francis back, "What on earth do you mean?" he chuckled nervously.

"Well it doesn't taste premature, but it reminds me of something young. Kind of like new grass in the spring." Arthur mused then took another sip. Francis didn't say anything, he just smiled at Arthur and sipped at his own glass.

When Arthur finished, he reached out to the bottle on the table.

"Ohh, would you look at the time!" Francis shouted and jumped from his spot, startling the Brit. I need to go, I hope you don t mind. he said hurriedly as he swept up the bottle and corked it.

"Wait a min-" Arthur started but was cut off by the French man

"See you mon ami!" and with that he left the house. Arthur was surprised Francis had left so quickly, he would have bet money that he would have stayed longer. _It's odd, why would Francis stop by when he had better things to do.  
_  
Well, thinking about it did him no good, he would have never guessed the intentions of that man. So, while deciding to think about it latter Arthur returned to his boredom which was only occasionally broken when Alfred asked for him to get more beer. 

As Francis boarded his plane home, he couldn't help but smile, his devious plan had worked. He had made sure England had drunk the glass completely and he knew he didn't need to stay to see if America would drink his share of the potion. _A job well done if I say so myself, his mind mused. Now hopefully England's book does contain magic. Don't fret mon petit fères, I shall be back tomorrow. _And with that Francis left.

Latter that night, while Arthur and Alfred were asleep, they both had dreams when they were younger. Though they didn't know it at the time. Alfred was dreaming about the one particular time when Arthur had come home after a rather long time. He had seemed more banged up than normal but by the smile that stretched across his face, he could tell that his new wounds didn't bother him much. And all Alfred cared about was he had come back home.

Arthur, too, was dreaming of the days when he was still in charge of the young country. He was sitting on the bedside reading the frightened child a book about Robin Hood. It was Alfred's favorite at the time. He eventually calmed down and fell asleep, and Arthur eventually feel asleep with the child in his arms.

Little did the two know, electricity was flowing through the air in their room. It swirled in purple patterns on the ceiling and the on the wall. Both Alfred and Arthur were glowing with a purple shine. And in the window, the full moon hung low and spilled a purple light across the floor.

Hellos everyone! So right now I'm thinking of nick names. I have a lot of them personally:

Ally, Ally-chan, Al, Big Al, Wom, AW, Alice, America, Ally-cat… well maybe not a lot. Oh well, it seemed like a lot at the time…

Anyways thank you for reading and please review!


	3. In Which Youth is Returned

Pale yellow sunlight spilled into the room from the early morning sun. It fell onto the floor and stretched across the bed warming Arthur beneath the covers. The light cast red patterns behind his eye lids as he sluggishly regained consciousness. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head and tensed the muscles on his body. He felt amazing. He could feel power rippling through his body and, for the first time in a long time, he felt no aching muscles. He relaxed his body but kept his eyes shut, relishing in the warmth that seemed to surround him.

He sighed in bliss and opened his eyes half way. He wanted to stay in bed longer but he knew he had to get up and face the day; it was a Monday after all. He rolled over his side to the man sleeping next to him; the American always had issues waking up in the morning. Arthur propped himself up on his elbow and reached his hand out for the others shoulder, he gave it a little shake.

"Al, it s time to get up." he said in a lazy tone. The blond in question groaned and dug his head deeper into his pillow.

"Common, wake up." normally he would want to smack the blond awake if he didn't get up at his first request, but he felt too good for that today.

Alfred suddenly flipped over and wrapped his arms around Arthur's torso, mumbling something as he buried his face into his chest. Arthur couldn't help but smile, sometimes Al can be just so cute.

"What'd you say?" he asked with amusement in his tone.

"Fiv mo min, plz" Alfred mumbled a bit louder. Arthur laughed, and then he wrapped his own arms around Alfred's head and shoulder and snuggled back into the blankets. "I'll give you two." then he sighed and shut his eyes.

He loved these mornings the best, but he wouldn't tell Alfred that. He kept each of those mornings tucked away in a special place in his head so that on really crappy days he could retreat to his memories. Today was slightly different though, he felt amazing, like he could take on the whole world if he wanted to, but I m feeling rather content just where I am.

When he felt Alfred move in his arms he was just about to open his eyes when he felt soft lips press slightly against his. It was a very sweet kiss, gentle and loving. Arthur smiled against Alfred's lips.

"I'm not going to fall for that." but there was nothing but humor in his voice.

"Damn," his counterpart replied, "I was hoping I could persuade you for a couple more minutes."

Arthur hummed," nope, I think not, it's Monday." he said as he pulled away and looked at Alfred.

Then he noticed it. Alfred looked young. Well, he always looked young with his glasses off but for some reason he looked too young. Then he watched Alfred's face as it slowly took on a form of shock.

_Iggy looks really young!_ Was all that ran through the Americans head as he stared at Arthur. There were no signs of age on the man, which albeit, there wasn't much to begin with, but still there was a remarkable change.

"Al, I thi-" Arthur started to say but was cut off by Alfred who jerked and sat up in the bed keeping a hand on Arthurs shoulder.

"Arthur! You look like a teenager!" he almost shouted.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, then said "Huh?"

"Seriously! You look like you could be seventeen or eighteen years old!"

Arthur paused again as his brain tried to process the new information. Slowly he put a hand to his face and his eyes dropped to the sheets. Then he looked up at Alfred.

"You look like you could be sixteen." was all he said.

There was silence for a very long while. They just stared at each other wondering if this was all a dream. And after a moment Alfred left the bed and wandered over to the mirror on the wall across the room. It was true; it was him staring back at himself only ten odd years or so younger.

"Wow." Alfred whispered under his breath. This was amazing. It was completely awesome, he could now go out in public and do all the things his energetic mind came up with without getting a bunch of strange looks. He then realized that he also wasn't going to work that day.

Arthur wanted to go look in the mirror as well. But that would mean getting out of the bed, which was at this curious time, his only grasp at reality. There was no natural way this could be happening; it had to be a dream. And somehow he felt that if he did leave the safety of their overstuffed comforter and tread barefooted across the hardwood floor, the dream would become a reality.

"Iggy come check this out!" Alfred's excited voice filled Arthurs head and he looked up at the man... boy. Alfred was looking at him with a sense of wonder that filled his eyes and a smile spread across his face.

Arthur's hands gripped the comforter as. He debated whether or not to get up then he slowly moved the blanket off of him and placed his feet over the side onto the cold wood floor.

He walked slowly to where Alfred stood with a cheeky and excited grin on his face. When he reached the mirror, Arthur placed his hand on the cool glass, the reflection of an Arthur that had long since past copied the action.

_This can't be right_. He racked his brain for what could have happened yesterday that would have caused these epic changes. Ever so slowly, mostly because he just woke up and found himself years younger, he started to remember the young taste of the wine. Then it clicked. The possibility of what might have happened.

"Alfred." he said in a quivering voice.

"Yeah?" the still taller blond responded while looking at himself in the mirror.

"I need you to buy two plane tickets to London immediately."

"Okay." but he remained by Arthurs side at the mirror.

"NOW!" Arthur shouted.

Alfred felt an instinct take over, one that only happened when Arthur wanted to kill him, so he bolted for the computer downstairs leaving the steaming Brit in the bedroom.

_FRANCIS! _

Hello folks, sorry this chapter is so short and it took me so long to update! But I've been really busy with my school work! But no worry's, school is almost over and I'll be able to update more frequently. Thank you for reading!


	4. In Which There is Much Annoyance

Rebbecca was known to be a bright and cheerful girl. She had quit her last job as a secretary for being a flight attendant in her pursuit to travel the world and to be in the air. It was her first voyage she would leave on the ten o'clock flight out of Pennsylvania, a short stop in New York, and then board a flight to London, then to Paris to spend the night, and back again. She was both excited and nervous for the start of her adventure, but when she woke up that morning she couldn't help but smile.

She was an all around nice girl who had friends and some strangers who would say that her only vice would be her timid and sometimes helpless nature when it came to angry strangers.

And unfortunately for Rebbecca, it was a very surly, very sarcastic, and a very angry English teenager and his somewhat flirtatious companion who boarded her first flight.

* * *

Arthur couldn't believe this was happening, here he was in the body of a helpless seventeen year old having to look after his IDIOTIC lover, deal with FUCKING SLOW traffic, and NOW he had to go through AIRPORT SECURITY! To say he was in a sour mood was too light of description, Arthur was livid with rage with a twinge of jealousy that flared whenever Al decided to chat up some form of the female gender. _Bloody Git._

It was at that moment in time Alfred noticed a very pretty girl next to them in the twisty line of security. She wasn't too tall but she wasn't what some would call short with dirty blond hair that was tied up in a braid at the base of her neck that fell to mid back. She looked kind of sportish-like with a non discript outfit wearing a tank top and some jeans that in his opinion showed off her curves quite nicely. _I wonder if she's fun to talk too..._

"God, how long is this gonna take?" Arthur stated, decidedidly not really trying to start a conversation but still wanting some form of acknowledgement from the man-turned-boy next to him. When a minute passed and he received no such acknowledgement, Arthur turned around to make sure the idiot was still standing where he was supposed to be. Which he was, but he was not facing Arthur or giving any other indication that he even heard him. Alfred seemed to be thoroughly distracted and was staring across the rows of people. Arthur wondered what on earth could hold his attention like that. He knew that there wasn't a T.V. in the plain room that was playing sports and he couldn't smell any type of food that could hold Alfred's interests.

So he followed the still taller boy-mans eyes and felt a strong streak of jealousy shoot up from the pit of his stomach to the back of his throat. He felt an angry flush stain his cheeks while his mind was screaming. His hand clenched at the small tote bag he had been caring.

Alfred was having fun watching this mysterious girl interact with her surroundings. It seemed she was just as impatient as Arthur was with the way she would constently shift her weight from one foot to the other, how her hand absently fiddleld with her necklace, how she would sigh her annoyence. It was fun comparing the two, their slight manurisms where indeed very similar and he wondered if her eyes danced with a kind of fire the way Arthurs did when he was angry. If her cheeks would become the lovely shade of red Arthurs did when he had... well when he teased him_. Speaking of Arthur_... Alfred turned with a slight smile on his face with the intention of informing him of his observations and maybe tease him a bit when he came face to face with a very red Arthur. It was not the red he had come to love though...

"_What on earth are you looking at?"_ Arthur hissed out, trying to avoid gaining the attention of those around them.

"Huh?" Alfred replied not quite understanding why Arthur was mad, he hadn't done anything stupid yet.

_"Stop staring at every single girl you come across! You phedophile!"_

"I'm NO-mph" Alfred started to say in a rather loud voice before Arthur slapped a hand across the teen's mouth.

"Don't be so loud! We're in a public place." Alfred glowered from behind the hand for a while before reaching up and removing it.

Alfred leaned down until he was parallel with Arthurs height. "I am not a pedophile," he whispered into Arthurs ear, which caused the jealous englishman to now become flustered as well, "the only one who could be accused of that..."

He leand closer until his lips brushed against the shell of Arthurs ear.

"Is you, old man."

Now, normally Arthur would explode with furry, however he was overwhelmed by the nearness of Alfred. The still larger hand holding his arm, the lips just hovering by his ear, the warm breath that tickled its way down the nape of his neck, and the undeniable husky tone that his voice took. And in the back of his mind the fact they were still in a very public place.

Oh yeah. They were in an airport. In line to the security check.

Before anything else could happen and despite the thrilling feeling that turned in the bowels of his stomach, the hope that something was about to happen, and it wasn't Alfred just teasing him, he jerked his arm out of Alfred's grasp and brought his other hand up and whacked the younger over the head.

Alfred's body awkwardly stumbled away from Arthurs, "Ow! What was that for?" If they didn't have attention earlier they had it now.

"Stop that. We're going now." Arthur muttered while he whipped around and picked up his luggage. He didn't however turn fast enough that Alfred didn't see, in his opion, a very becoming shade of pink dusting Arthurs cheaks. Alfred smiled picked up his own luggage and pursued his older lover.

* * *

After dealing with security which took much longer than needed because Alfred had set off the alarms due to the fact that he forgot to leave his six inch hunting knife at home, and then having to wait while Alfred had to file paperwork to have it shipped back to his house, then a 'quick' stop at the airport McDonalds and Starbucks, and then the wait to board the plane, the pair were in there seats waiting for take-off.

"Who the bloody hell carries a SIX INCH HUNTING KNIFE with them!" Arthur fumed.

"I said I was sorry already. They never used to check that stuff in the fiffty's." pouted the chastised teenager.

"In the fucking FIFFTY'S! It's the new melenium fer Christ's sake!"

"Whatever, at least we're on the plane now."

"Hello! Welcome to British Arlines! Can I get you two something to drink?" said a rather chipper voice from behind Arthur.

He didn't even have to look, from the high pitched voice the person was obviously female and from the way Alfred's posture straightened and the smile that replaced the frown that had been there previously, she was very pretty. His suspission was correct when he turned to find a young twenty something with flaming red hair and a slim figure smiling back at him. His frown deepened.

"I'll have a coke please!" Alfred responded. The attendent smiled and nodded then looked at Arthur waiting.

"A beer please." He curtly replied to the unspoken question.

The attendent looked confused and concerned for a while before asking with a uncertian voice, "umm, do you have an I.D. I can check?"

Arthur glared back at the attendent before realising that he looked younger than he was. He sighed heavily. "Water."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said I'll have water." The reply was harsh and came with a glare. Arthur was seriously questioning this woman's intellagence.

"Okay, umm, one moment please..." she tappered off awkwardly then dissipeared back into the cabin at the end of the plane.


End file.
